


Left Behind

by Lassarina



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-17
Updated: 2009-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/pseuds/Lassarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He chose it, but that doesn't make being left behind any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Behind

It was a good day until the Garden truck rumbled into Balamb.

Seifer glowered in the general direction of the rumbling truck, belching exhaust and creating an unpleasantly loud racket as it idled next to the docks. He'd figured it was just a matter of time until they sent someone for him; too much to hope that they'd decided to waive Section 6, Subsection III, paragraphs f through h, Soldiers Who Abandon Their Assignments due to, you know, worldwide catastrophic fucking disasters also known as Time Compression.

SeeDs piled out of the truck in sufficient quantity that Seifer wondered if there was some kind of Space Compression going on inside the vehicle. A double squad plus two, he noted, twelve SeeDs in formal uniform.

The last SeeD out of the car had blond hair that gleamed in the summer sunlight, and carried a whip neatly coiled over her left shoulder.

Seifer tried to work up a sneer that didn't quite succeed.

He thought about trying to get closer to find out what they had in mind, since maybe then he could take better evasive action, but before the thought went much farther he heard Instructor Trepe's crisp order to "Move out!"

The two squads saluted in unison and turned, marching toward the train station in perfect lockstep. Instructor Trepe stayed behind with another SeeD he didn't recognize, and watched them go.

The landward breeze meant that he couldn't hear what they were saying. He spun the reel of his fishing rod in irritation and wondered if it might not just be better to go start a fight with them, instead of waiting for them to run him to ground like some kind of animal.

Instructor Trepe said something to the other SeeD, who saluted and re-entered the truck. The truck ground into reverse and pulled out of the parking area near the docks, emitting foul-smelling clouds of black smoke as it did so. Seifer thought that Puberty Boy really ought to see to the maintenance of it, being all high-and-mighty Commander of Garden now. Then again, if the best mechanic he had left was Chicken-Wuss, that might explain the crappy truck. A lot of kids—SeeDs, he corrected himself—had died in the Second Sorceress War.

He'd killed a fair number of them himself, and Fuu and Rai had racked up quite a list too.

Instructor Trepe stood at attention until the truck had lumbered onto the road back to Garden, oddly incongruous in the SeeD combat uniform amid the "uniform" of Balamb, which primarily consisted of tank tops, flip-flops, and shorts. The people of Balamb were accustomed to SeeDs, and no one gave her so much as a second glance despite her weaponry and the faint shimmering aura around her that told anyone who knew how to look that she was fully Junctioned.

Seifer re-cast his line without much interest, and wiggled the hook in the water. As an excuse to do nothing, fishing had everything else beat hands-down, but it didn't do much to keep him entertained, and he was starting to get sick of it. Unfortunately there wasn't much else to do in sleepy-ass Balamb _except_ fish, so he was stuck. It wasn't like he was going to go back to Garden willingly, or worse, get a job. (Not that anyone wanted a disgraced and rejected Knight for an employee, either.)

Instructor Trepe left her post and started to walk along the dock.

Seifer thought of Hyperion, safely tucked under the trench coat he'd left lying on the dock next to him, and shifted his position just enough to have her within arm's reach.

"Seifer," the Instructor said in that cool, controlled voice that used to make paying attention in class a challenge. (Or at least, paying attention to what she _said_ in class.)

"Instructor." He smirked at her, the familiar expression coming easily to his lips.

She clasped her hands in front of her in a way reminiscent of Xu. "How are you doing?" she asked him.

Courtesy was the last thing he'd expected from the Instructor. Seifer squinted up at her, irritated that she'd placed herself in a way that let the sun backlight her and more irritated with himself for not seeing that move coming. "It's a sunny day and I've got a fishing rod," he said. "Pretty girl standing in front of me—" She frowned a little at that, and he made a tally mark on his side of the mental scoreboard "—and a cold drink." He used the hand that wasn’t balancing his fishing rod to raise the bottle of Winhill Dew, dripping condensation on the dock. "Seems all right by me."

She didn't say anything, just stared at him with that piercing blue gaze that always made him feel like she was stripping him down and not in the fun way that ended against a wall or on a bed. After a moment she shook her head slightly. "Garden has elected not to pursue charges against you for your actions in the Second Sorceress War," she said crisply, and for the life of him he couldn't tell if she agreed with that decision or not. She'd gotten a lot harder to read in the last year.

"How very gracious of them." The sneer was easy, or at least easier than admitting that the dismissal stung a little. Hell, if they'd been chasing him, he might have had something to _do_ with his time, a challenge to look forward to.

"Sorceress Edea and Rinoa Heartilly bid for clemency," Instructor Trepe continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "and the Commander acquiesced. However, you should be aware that this clemency, while retroactively covering the events of the Second Sorceress War, does not apply to any future actions you might take. Should you choose to fight Garden again, we will strike back with our full strength."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don't fuck with you, and you won't fuck with me." Seifer wiggled his eyebrows. "Though if you wanted to play, Instructor, I think it might be fun."

She didn't even dignify that with a response. "Do you require clarification?" Her voice was crisp, the syllables clipped, and damn if that didn't drive him crazy even if he didn't know why it should.

"Seems straightforward," he drawled.

She nodded. "Then, good luck, Seifer." She turned and walked away, much as she had before that last SeeD test.

Seifer watched her go, as much for the way her hips moved under the SeeD uniform skirt as for nostalgia, but couldn't quite work up another sneer for her ultimatum.

Not for the first nor the last time, he cursed Ultimecia, and his stupid fucking dream.


End file.
